Sunday, August 31, 2008

Who knew that the road from Manhattan to Larchmont would be lined in rhinestones? But it is literally from our move last week. I can not go three feet without spying another rhinestone. On the stairs of our new house. On the driveway outside. Not to mention the apartment we left, everywhere I looked - rhinestones, rhinestones, rhinestones.

My younger daughter Kay is obsessed with rhinestones -and always has been - which is why there are so many. We had piles stashed around our home like a drunken pirate who wanted to know at any moment he could reach out and run his fingers through his piles of jewels and treasure. In our case we had rhinestones under (and over, and between, and inside of) every surface, because you never knew when you might hear the plaintive wail of "where are myrhinestones?" and need to refill whatever pirates chest or satchel Kay would give you "where's me gold" style 'till it was overfull of her shiny jewels.

I wonder if rhinestones will continue to be our currency of choice out here in the suburbs? Personally, I'm betting on itty-bitty boots and multi-colored dresses from the rare and exotic Island of Polly Pocket.